success

Epiphanies come at the oddest times. It’s the end of our writing term, and I’m sitting with a fellow writer enjoying a glass of wine.

‘It’s just really hard,’ I say, settling into a good moan, ‘when your husband is so much more succesful than you are.’

‘I know what you mean,’ she says.

‘It’s not just the whole money thing, or whose day was more important, it’s just the whole balance in the relationship. Of course he doesn’t see it that way.’

‘Of course not. Why would he?’ she says, and then adds, ‘It’s difficult when it all changes suddenly.’

‘Yes!’ I say, thinking rather nostalgically of the years when Long Suffering Husband was struggling to set up his own company and I was struggling to finish my book. We were so aligned, we were a team, it was us against the world. Now he’s gone and gotten a big-time, proper job and I’m still struggling. Not that I begrudge him success in any way, he deserves it in bucket loads, and I’m very aware that someone has to support the struggling writer and her large brood. It’s just that it’s different now.

‘So, what’s changed suddenly for you guys?’ I say, taking a sip of wine.

‘My husband’s just won an Oscar,’ she replies.

As I’m mopping up spluttered wine from the table and my shirt, a voice in my head is trying desperately to save me: ‘Be cool!’ it says, ‘It’s just an Oscar, someone’s got to win them. Whatever you do, don’t go all weird on her!’

‘Oh, right,’ I say out loud, attempting nonchalance, but there’s no point. I’m gripping the stem of my wine glass in excitement.  ‘Did you go?’ I can’t stop myself, ‘Was it amazing? Did you walk the red carpet? Is it very red, and very long? I bet it is. Oh-my-GOD!’

What are you doing? the voice is shouting in my head, Get a hold of yourself! This is the very thing she’s complaining about!

But the voice is overruled. The words keep coming. ‘Did you go to the after parties? All of them, including the Vanity Fair one, cos that’s like the best one. What did you think of Natalie Portman’s dress? Who did you talk to? Did you talk to Colin Firth? He’s amazing isn’t he, he looks amazing, and HOT. And his wife, of course, is lovely and such a role model. So inspiring.’

I draw breath. ‘Sorry about that,’ I say.

She smiles.

‘So what did  you think of it?’

‘It was,’ she says, ‘A little bit… tatty.’

‘Tatty?!’ I am incredulous.

‘Yes,’ she says.

‘Wow,’ I say, finally at a loss for words.

It suddenly strikes me that in our media-crazed and excessively driven society we hype up success to the point where it becomes the end goal, rather than the achievement of what we’ve set out to do. And when I think about my aspirations for my first book and my misgivings about starting on my second, I see that when success matters more than achievement, whatever it is we’re setting out to do really does stand in grave danger of turning out to be a little bit tatty.